I remember you!

I think...

6 Parts: Who are you? SPRING BREAK! Salmon! Meatloaf, Two roads diverged, Stuffed squash

Who are you?

About a month ago I walked out the front gate of our school and headed toward my car. Across the street and walking the other way were three young fellas. I had a moment of prejudicial thought, thinking they looked like hooligans. I quickly dismissed the thought, as I usually do, because I remember that they look a lot like what I would have looked like in high school. Yup. Me. A hooligan.

Next thing I know one of them is shouting out, “hey, Mr. Swanson!” and I squint and look over there and I have no clue who it is. I know I’m not going to figure it out so “you’re going to have to help me out, who are you?” “It’s R****!” and my mind swings back a moment to hooligan.

But then I remember. A high energy kid. In 6th grade during Covid. Clever, but sometimes lacking in common sense. I have a flashback to wearing a mask, gloves, a face shield and sitting behind him on his computer in his house. “R****! Remember when I went to your house during covid to try to get your internet and chromebook working? Good to see you.” and suddenly he sort of takes a step back. I think in that moment he became aware that his two friends might be questioning his coolness. Maybe they are thinking, “Why R****, are you on such close terms with this teacher?” and so it moved quickly to “nice to see you” “take care” “have a nice day” and they wandered off.

No. I don’t think I ever would have figured out who it was. It was still good to see him.

SPRING BREAK!

We’re halfway through 2 weeks to do whatever. To ease my potential loneliness, I invited a bunch of people over for dinner on different nights. Got to keep myself busy. So far, I’ve had one couple over, cooked food and delivered it, and gone to a friend’s house and they cooked. Doing pretty well. Good times.

It also forced me to clean house. Wow, things get messy fast. Vacuum, laundry, move the piles from one room to another, reorganize the kitchen. I even took apart the dishwasher filters and scrubbed them. That’s pretty disgusting, btw. DIS GUS TING. eww. 

Salmon!

Coming home from my friend’s house last night (we had salmon! It was delicious) I had a 25 minute drive. It’s 8:30 and dark. I get in the car and start driving through their neighborhood. There are a couple speed humps. There’s a digital “your speed” sign. It doesn’t register my car. hmmm. Apparently I have a stealth car.

I exit their community and enter the highway at which point I check the speedometer and see that I am going 0 miles per hour. The rpm is 0. The temperature is not registering and the fuel tank is on empty. Well then. 

Regardless of the fact that I am powering down the road at about 50mph it is still quite disconcerting to see all these 0s. Am I really moving down the road? Is this the twilight zone? What the heck? Sort of feels like sitting in a river floating downstream. The relative speed to the water is zero, but the shoreline is zipping by. 

Some messed up signal. The car isn’t thinking properly for sure. I keep checking to see if it changes. Nope. I am forced to guess at my speed all the way home. I wonder if my turn signals work. I think I did pretty well at going 60.  35 was harder. What exactly does 35 feel like?  What do I tell the officer when he pulls me over for either driving too fast or suspiciously slow? Hmmm. I considered pulling over and restarting the car but was afraid it might decide not to start again so I drove all the way home on empty going 0 mph. When I got in the garage I turned the car off, let it sit a moment, and turned it back on and the rpm jumped up and the fuel gauge moved and I sighed a sigh of relief. If only our brains could reset like that. Reboot. Rewire those old connections.

Meatloaf

When I cooked and took it to a friend’s house it was because she asked to have me cook for her uncle and caregiver. They’re older and not very mobile. So I was game. I made meatloaf, mashed potatoes, broccoli, salad and … apple pie.  

The caregiver is a sweet older woman. Sharp as a tack but physically a bit challenged. The uncle is physically in good shape but has some dementia going on. I knew this going in so I was prepared. When he meets me (for the first time ever) he says, “I remember you!” and shakes my hand. I smile. My friend then tells him about the food we’re going to be eating and he does a playful growl and bark like a happy dog. Interesting. 

We have a nice evening talking about a variety of things. The conversations tended to circle back to detective shows and murder - but it was fun. The uncle would occasionally interject a seemingly random comment. I figure there was really some connection he had made but who knows. Anyway, at one point he comes back from a short walk (he does a lot of short walks) sits down and has a big grin on his face. I couldn’t resist. I don’t know what I said but I ribbed him a little (those of you that know me know I like to rib people). I think there was a pun involved anyway. He gave me a look and said somewhat gravely, “You are an a** hole.”  I smile at him. then he holds up his hands in a small circle, “a big a** hole.” My eyebrows go up. And then he holds his hands in an even bigger circle “this big!” and wider still, “really BIG a**!”  and the caregiver cuts him off, distracts him and… I am sure… he totally forgets what he just said.  And I’m just thinking, “well, that was unexpected.” 

My friend apologized profusely when she found out. Her husband told her that her uncle had been quite rude. Yeah - officially - that would qualify as rude. But I took no offense. He’s not really there. I was a bit surprised. And I was a bit sad that this nice fellow had reached a point where he might just go down a random negative path at any time. It’s hard. Really hard. If anything I was more upset that he didn’t eat very much meatloaf. He did love the apple pie though. 

Maybe a reboot would help?

Two Roads Diverged… 

One thing I am not good at is memorizing. It has never been in my wheelhouse. I have a hard time with names too. In one ear and out the … nose? 5 seconds later and I won’t remember.  

In high school when we would be asked to memorize a poem or something I struggled. I’d forget. I wouldn’t be able to do it. I could get parts but then something about it wouldn’t sit right and I’d get lost. In college when I had to learn the cyrillic alphabet it took me f o r e v e r.

Kt was amazing at memorizing. She could still recite a massive adverb list she learned in middle school. She could do poems. She could remember the latin names of plants and animals. I’m lucky if I remember the common name.

But you teach! You say. You have nearly 300 students! Why yes, it’s true. But I only have to learn a few new names every year since I see them year after year. Also, I do have a good spatial memory and I’ve used that to my advantage. In my classes I have a seating chart that stays static for a few months at a time. When I see a student outside of class and I don’t remember their name I can remember where they sit in my class. Then I can visualize my seating chart and I can visualize who sits next to them. If I can’t visualize their name written on the chart I can usually imagine their neighbors saying their name. It takes a bit of time, but it usually works. A trick that makes use of my actual memory strength. 

Evenso there are students that I just never really get. It’s like my brain doesn’t think their name matches who they are. I have no trick for those students. I just have to force it into my brain.

I remember all the Andrews… just in case you’re wondering.

I am also prone to being pre-occupied with thoughts and so, therefore, forget basic things. If I’m thinking about something else while I’m cleaning the house there is no telling where I might put things. Sometimes I’m just too clever for myself. “Oh, this would be a great place to put this valuable piece of *something*. I’ll never forget that I put it here. Never! And then I do forget. But that’s really the exception. Usually I am very organized. I put things back in the same place every time. For instance the knives in the knife drawer are always in the same order. The measuring cups are stacked the same way. The glasses and mugs all have their places. This “anal”ness, as you might call it, was extremely beneficial in my relationship with Kt. She was even more detailed in where she expected to find things. If I put anything in the wrong place there was sure to be a “what the hell!” echoing across the apartment. 

Memory. Tricky business. What is normal and what is not? My mom had dementia and then Alzheimer's. Her mom did as well. Makes a person a little paranoid about their own memory. 

Anyone else ever wish for a reboot?  

Stuffed Squash

I had a couple over to my place to start the week. I made stuffed acorn squash. Toasted the seeds. They brought salad. I also made some dairy free chocolate pudding with raspberries and strawberries for dessert. Tasty. It was a lovely evening. Her mom had just passed away a couple of months ago after a quick memory decline. We would talk about it at work sometimes. I was super impressed that she kept her mom living with her all the way until the end. That’s love. So difficult.  Especially when they’re still smart and they give you occasional glimpses into who they were but most of the time it’s just difficult.  

My mom had tricks to make it seem like she knew what was going on. When she lived in her own house alone she was able to get by because she knew where everything was. I think since she lost her memory gradually she learned how to show an expression of recognition when meeting someone or during conversation. She also know how to agree with what you said so it seemed like she remembered what was going on. “Oh yes, I remember that.” But it was really a big act. What we didn’t know was that she would get in memory spirals. She would wake up and feel like she couldn’t sleep, so she’d have a little whisky and go back to bed. Then she’d do it again. and again. Never remembering that she had already done so. The alcohol and weird sleep only made her memory worse.

Then she was in a constant state of having stomach issues. Looking back it seems obvious that she was eating food that was way too old from her fridge. She liked sandwiches and would have meat in her fridge of questionable age. To her - she had always just been to the store.

And regardless of her memory issues she was still smart. Quick. Funny. It made it hard for the people who care about her to recognize what’s going on. I wasn’t the brilliant one to figure it out.

My brother and sister were the ones to take the initiative. They found a place for mom to live and started pushing her to sell her house. She didn’t want to go. Then suddenly, mom being mom, she went out and sold the house on her own, as is, in a quick sale. Yup. So then we had to scramble to pack up her valuables, sell stuff, clean stuff, move her to her memory facility apartment. Aww mom. That was sweet revenge!! 

She got a little ornery at times in her new place but it was a nice one bedroom. All meals were provided and they had entertainment and “field trips”. At this point we would visit and she would seem to recognize us. She didn’t repeat her questions too often.  She was still mom. One time I went up to visit and slept on the floor in her living room. In the morning I woke to her standing in the living room staring at me. “Who are you?” she asked in a disturbed voice.  “It’s Andy mom” “Oh, okay.” I didn’t sleep on her floor again.

The human brain. Amazing. Sometimes though, I just want to give it a reboot. 

Reconciling memory issues like with my friend’s uncle or my other friend’s mother or my own mother is difficult. So much of it is from our perspective and what we remember. We want them to remember as well… but what is actually important to them? It’s hard to know. In this last year I’ve spent a lot of time studying mental health. I know all about recognizing emotions, understanding emotions, labeling emotions, expressing emotions and regulating emotions but where does a person with dementia fall? Are they stuck living only in the zone of expressing emotions with no understanding and no ability to regulate? It seems like maybe they are. It may, in reality, be okay for them since they are always in the moment, but it sure is tough on everyone else… everyone with a memory.